"One would have supposed you would have liked a pretty young thing like that in the house. You are lonesome enough here, and it makes a little life," said Emmanuel quietly. He knew his sister Keziah, and that she must have her head when the talking fit was on her. "'A pretty young thing like that!'" she repeated scornfully. "Lord love you, born cuddy as you are! What's her good looks to me, I wonder, but a pound spent on a looking-glass, and Jenny taken off her work to make cakes and butter-sops for her dainty teeth? We'll have all the men-folk too havering round to see which of 'em may have the honor of ruining himself for my fine lady. And I'll not have it, I tell ye. I'll not have my house turned into a fair, with madam there as the show. Life! what do I want with 'life' about me, or you either, Emmanuel? I've got my right foot in the grave, and I reckon yours is not far off; and what we've both got to do now is to see that we make a good ending for our souls." "At all events, you don't refuse to take her for a week or two?" asked Emmanuel innocently. "Did I say I refused? Did I send her up stairs as the nighest road to the street-door?" retorted his sister with disdain. "Did I not tell you, as plain as tongue could speak, that she is welcome to her bit and sup, and I'll pass the time away for her in the best way I can, though bad is the best, I reckon?" "Well, well, you are a good body," said her brother. "Ay," she answered, "I am good enough when I jump your way. But tell me, Emmanuel," changing from the disdain of the superior creature holding forth on high matters to the inferior to the familiar gossip of the natural woman, "what's to do with her? It's as plain as a pike-staff that something is troubling her, and maybe it will be some of your love nonsense? for it's mainly that as fashes the lasses. Good Lord! I'm thankful I was never hindered that way." "Yes," said Mr. Gryce, "she has had what you women call a disappointment; and," speaking with unusual energy, "the man was a fool and a coward, and she has had a lucky escape." "Say ye? If so, then there is no call for her to carry on," said Keziah philosophically. "But the poor bairn's looking wantle enough now, though I warrant me the fell-side air will brisk her up in no time." "I hope it will," said her brother. "What does she eat, now? You see, now I've got the lass on my hands, I cannot hunger her," said Keziah. "Not that I can give her dainties and messes," she added hastily, the miser's cloak suddenly covering the woman's heart. "She'll have to take what we get, and be thankful for her meat. Still, it's as well to know what a body's been accustomed to when they come like this, all of a heap." "Don't fash yourself about her," answered Emmanuel. "Do what you can--that you will, I know--but leave her to herself: that's the way for her. She's an odd little body, and the least said the soonest mended with Leam." "With who, d'ye say?" asked Keziah sharply.